


Pulvis et Lux

by sluthuxx



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Character Death, Established Relationship, Fic Exchange, Force Ghost Kylo Ren, Force Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Kylux Fic Exchange, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-16 17:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13641315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sluthuxx/pseuds/sluthuxx
Summary: Emptiness. Hux shook in his quarters, clutching a tiny position sensor to his heart. It was dead now. Cold, quiet, and useless. The last five years he had cherished it like a tiny piece of his lover, knowing that, however far he strayed, Kylo Ren was alive and within his reach.But now he was lost to him, and Hux was left with a tiny piece of smooth metal and a large corpse, bloodied and burned.(oh yeah, and the force ghost that eventually shows up)





	Pulvis et Lux

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pyromanicofthesea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyromanicofthesea/gifts).



Emptiness. Hux shook in his quarters, clutching a tiny position sensor to his heart. It was dead now. Cold, quiet, and useless. The last five years he had cherished it like a tiny piece of his lover, knowing that, however far he strayed, Kylo Ren was alive and within his reach. 

 

But now he was lost to him, and Hux was left with a tiny piece of smooth metal and a large corpse, bloodied and burned. Hux hated himself for waiting,  _ waiting  _ for the order to retrieve Ren. For assuming he would be alright. If the girl and her friends could destroy Starkiller, his beautiful creation, why couldn’t they also destroy Kylo, the other bright light in his life? But no, it wasn’t even a worthy comparison. Now that they were both gone it was so clear to Hux that the only thing in his life that had had any true meaning was Kylo  _ fucking  _ Ren. Kylo was warmth and feeling where Starkiller was cold, bleak emotionlessness.

 

Clutching the palm-sized tracker Hux imagined it was a trigger, and he knew that if it would bring Ren back he would build a new Starkiller just to blow it up himself. 

 

Hux had hardly ever truly  _ needed _ to use it. The tracking systems in his shuttle and frequent check-ins were more effective when it came to actually tracking Ren’s progress across the stars, but they were impersonal. When he was away on missions, Hux had often found himself staring at the blinking tracker absentmindedly, focusing on it as if it were alive and running his fingers across the little light as if it were his lover’s pulse.

 

He was pulled from his thoughts by the pinging of his comm, which he promptly ignored. When it continued to beep he switched it off, stood reluctantly and turned a corner, prepared to shove the damn thing into a drawer and out of sight. When he made his way through the doorframe, Hux realized he had made an awful mistake. He wasn’t just greeted with the sight of his room, but with  _ their  _ room,  _ their  _ bed, because Ren had officially moved in some five standard months ago. 

 

Luckily, the general tidiness on which he insisted meant the room was mostly devoid of personal objects, at least ones left out and prepared to force memories upon him. That would come later, every time he opened a drawer or sought clothes from their closet. Even the refresher would be filled with Ren’s items, non-regulation toiletries he brought back to tame his hair and soothe Hux’s muscles.

 

Not having the courage to glimpse their personal possessions, he opted to simply shove the comm under their mattress. Out of sight, out of mind. Now that he couldn’t hear or see the blasted thing he felt slightly more comfortable. Hux found that he had no real interest in whatever mundane messages his officers had for him. The only real task before him was tracking down the Resistance. Avenging Ren.  _ Killing the scavenger and the traitor with his own two hands.  _

 

His thoughts of revenge were cut short by a banging on his door. In a gross breach of protocol, someone was actually  _ putting their fist on the door to his quarters.  _ When he found he could not ignore the insistent rapping noise Hux headed towards the exit and called for the door to open. He was greeted by rather wet, helmetless Phasma. “Captain, now is not the time-” before he could formulate more words she surged forward, pulling him into a hard hug. 

 

“‘Tige, I’m so, so sorry.”

 

“Yes, well… I… why are you wet?”

 

“Had a run-in with a trash compactor. Bit of a nasty business, but possibly the only reason I made it off the base alive.”

 

Hux took a small step back and ran a hand down his sodden front.

 

“Oh, no worries, boss, that’s just water. I’ve had a sonic and hosed my hair off for good measure.”

 

“Ah. Well then. I was sort of hoping to be alone for a bit Phas, unless you had any updates on the Resistance specifically.”

 

“No, sir. But there is another pressing matter. The body. He wasn’t technically an officer so protocol’s a bit fuzzy. Really it’s against protocol that he was brought back at all. Medics want you to make the call.”

 

Hux’s head spun.  _ The body.  _ Of course it was up to him. Normally, the First Order just cremated its deceased. Sometimes an important legacy officer would get sent back to their homeworld to be laid to rest in accordance to family traditions, but Ren had never specified what he would like done. They’d never discussed death. Well, death, yes. But not  _ theirs.  _ They were supposed to have time. Years. Decades. They were supposed to conquer, thrive,  _ rule.  _ Leave behind a legacy and an empire that would last for millenia.

 

And now, Hux was left to walk the path alone. Instead of tracking down the rest of the Resistance with the  _ love of his kriffing life  _ he was being hailed to medical to sign off on a body. Be it because he was in charge of the blasted ship, or because their work as Co-Commanders and their not-exactly-secret personal relationship made Hux the closest thing Ren had to a next of kin, he supposed it really was his job. Good. He needed to go. 

 

“Sir?”

 

Hux realized he hadn’t actually responded, he’d just been standing in the entryway to his chambers. Committed, but not quite ready to move.

 

“Yes, well. Would you accompany me?”

 

“Of course, Sir. I’ve got some minor injuries that really ought to be looked at.”

 

He appreciated her humoring him. Phasma was tougher than her chrome armor and with everything going on at the moment would likely would likely have ignored a broken leg and burnt face if he hadn’t needed her company in his grief.

 

Hux retrieved his greatcoat from a hook and followed her out into the halls. He moved to clasp his hands behind his back before realizing how empty they felt and retrieving the small sensor from his pocket and repeating the motion.

 

\--------------------

 

“General, Sir. Excellent. We’ve prepared the paperwork, we just need your thumbprint. So sorry to drag you down here for this.”

 

“Sorry to... drag? Paperwork?”

 

Hux had spent the entire walk to the medical wing and close to ten minutes outside carefully steeling himself for what was to come, but nothing had prepared him for a white sheet and a clueless, bumbling attendant that was clearly unaware of the nature of his relationship with Ren.

 

“Yes, the paperwork. Just to get everything squared away. For the cremation.”

 

“No.”

 

“Sorry?

 

“There won’t be a cremation, at least not yet. And I’d like to see him.”

 

The attendant’s confusion was palpable, but nonetheless he made to move the sheet back.

 

“No! I-- alone. I’d like to be alone.”

 

A moment later, he was. In fact, Hux had never felt more alone than he did in that moment, looking at the shape of his lover underneath a stark, white sheet. He took in a deep breath and pulled it back, quick and clinical, like he was ripping off a bacta strip.

 

No bacta strip had never put him close to tears, made him lightheaded, or forced him on his knees, doubled over and dry heaving. Hux drew in breath. And drew in breath. And drew in breath. He couldn’t quite call it breathing, but it was a valiant effort. He was half-way there. He was trying. He clutched his hand around Kylo’s tracker and knew what he needed to do. He needed to stand. He needed to look at Kylo’s face. He needed to retrieve the other tracker from Kylo. But first, he needed to breathe.

 

Breathe.

 

_ Breathe. _

 

Eventually, he was able to rise shakily to his feet and steel his emotions enough to once again look upon Kylo’s body. As much as he wanted to prove his strength to himself and stare down the corpse of his lover, it was all he could do to slowly unwrap Kylo’s cowl with shaky hands, taking care not to touch his hair as he pulled it from his frame. When it was free of his neck, Hux gingerly slipped his fingers underneath the collar and felt around for the lanyard he knew held Kylo’s position sensor. After what felt like a lifetime, his fingers found themselves tangled in the corded leather and he tugged, getting it out and free from his body. What he found stopped him short.

 

On the end of the cord was a small metal tracker, identical to the one Hux held in his hand, but it wasn’t alone; next to it rested a smooth black ring flecked with shards of red.

 

“The stone came from Mustafar. The kyber from Starkiller. A piece of me, a bit of you.”

 

The voice of a dead man, coming from behind Hux, should have sent him back to his knees in fright, but instead the General found himself more calm than he had been in days.

 

However, when he turned and was greeted by Kylo’s translucent gray doppelganger, a pale imitation of the force user he had known, the shift was immediate. Hux’s emotions became a mix of pain, anger, confusion, and yes, hope.

 

“It was for you. After Starkiller, after the Hosnian System and D’Qar were destroyed…”

 

Hux had mourned and reminisced enough for one day. Now he wanted to hear about the future. He clung to Kylo’s ring like physical manifestation of the hope he felt nestled in his chest. He took a step closer to the figure before him, one hand reaching out uselessly. “But you’re…”

 

“Dead, yes.”

 

Hux’s heart sank. He had carried the body onboard himself and he knew it to be true, but hearing that voice, seeing that face, even looking like an orginless projection, had ignited a kernal of hope within him.

 

“Is it permanent?”

 

“Is what permanent, Hux? Death?”

 

The bastard let out a huff of laughter. Kylo Ren had gone out and gotten himself fucking killed and had the gall to  _ laugh _ at him.

 

He must have seen Hux’s expression, because his face (no, not his face.  _ His _ face was bloody and broken and  _ cold _ behind them) fell.

 

“Kriff, Hux, yes. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

 

“There’s no… putting you back?” Hux made a truncated movement with his arm behind his back, towards where Kylo’s body lay, a strange third-party to their conversation.

 

“No. It’s not of any use to me now.”

 

“Oh, I, it-- Did you have wishes? For burial? I’ve been trying to think, but nothing seems right.”

 

“Apparently Starkiller is now a star, binary with the last one it was set to destroy.”

 

“Yes. Poetic, isn’t it?”

 

“I’d like to be buried there.”

 

“Buried?”

 

“Well not buried, but sent. Not that I care much what happens to my body, but I would like for it to be with my father’s remains. And in a place that reminds me of you.”

 

“I-- Of course. That can be arranged. What, um. What exactly is happening? I mean, you’ve died, but you’re still, still..”

 

“Still here.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It’s uncommon, but not unheard of, for a Force-sensitive to remain behind after death. Most Jedi who ended up like this were either immensely powerful or completed specific training. Most Sith tied themselves to a place or object, or had a sense of hatred so strong they couldn’t leave it behind. I’m not really sure where I fall or what happened. I’d never really given much thought to coming back after death. I’d never really given much thought to death.”

 

Hux’s heart did an odd fluttery movement at that. He’d never really considered Ren’s death, either. There was a time, years ago, when he’d constantly been expecting his own, but somehow,  _ somehow  _ he’d never thought about this possibility. Ren had been so strong; physically, mentally, and with the Force. He had assumed they would spread the First Order across the stars. Together. Maybe they still could, if he could determine what was tethering him to this existence. It seemed whatever hatred Kylo had for his family had died with Han Solo, so that left… the body, which Kylo had just requested be destroyed.

 

So he knew. It was a fair request, wanting everything to end. His life had been a war, but Kylo Ren certainly wasn’t obligated to continue the fight in death. Hux wanted to crumple, to cry and beg Kylo to stay, but more than that he wanted him to be at peace. The Kylo he was with now was more calm and sure than Kylo, Master of the Knights of Ren, had ever been in life.  _ He’s ready,  _ came the heartbreaking thought. Kylo couldn’t stay, chained to a rotting corpse, for Hux’s sake.

 

“Your body, then. I can have it dressed and loaded on an escape pod. Jettisoned onto the planet within the cycle. In the meantime, is there anything else you need done? Anyone I should notify? I assume the Resistance is aware you didn’t survive. Letters you’d like sent? Last words to be recorded?”  _ Anything you’d like to say to me.  _

 

“Nothing pressing. Don’t bother cleaning the body, just get rid of it. I want it done quickly.”

 

_ Oh.  _ Hux swallowed quietly and went to the door of the room, jamming a thumb on the controls and summoning the attendants back. Kylo was still there when they returned, and he stayed while Hux made arrangements, but it was clear they could not see their former commander or even sense his presence. 

 

Soon enough, the slab had been de-gravitized and an attendant was pushing it out of the room. Not wanting to be separate from Kylo’s for a single moment of the few they had left, Hux hurried after them. Too soon, they reached a pod and Kylo’s body was being secured inside. After that, Hux dismissed the attendant, grateful they hadn’t asked too many questions and had exhibited some modicum of bedside manner, unlike the man from earlier.

 

Hux climbed into the pod after the body and settled beside it, his earlier aversion gone completely now that there was a sense of finality to the moment. He found himself stroking Ren’s hair and contemplating what words would be appropriate. He wanted to say something sappy and heartfelt, needing to express just how much he  _ loved Ren  _ and how there would never,  _ never  _ be anyone else, but not wanting to guilt him or sway his choice. Instead, he stood and turned to the figure just behind his shoulder and asked, with a sense of finality:

 

“Are you ready?”

 

All he received was a nod.

 

“Right, then.” He stepped out of the pod, and once he was sure Ren’s ghost wouldn’t be trapped inside, sealed it.

 

“Ren-- Kylo. I love you. I wish I had said it more. I’m not a man to dwell in regret, but I suspect that’s one I’ll hold with me till the day  _ I  _ die.”

 

“I always knew, Hux. It wasn’t something you needed to put to words. And stars, I love you, too. There’ll be time to dwell later, when we aren’t standing by my corpse. Please, let’s finish this.”

 

_ Yes. Time for me to dwell once you’re gone. _

 

“Alright.” Hux’s fingers twitched, longing to take Ren’s, but knowing it couldn’t be. Instead, he reached out and jammed the release button. The pod shot out of the Finalizer, the ship where they’d met, and fought, and loved, and out towards the bright ball of light that remained of Starkiller, the planet that had been their end. He watched it go; whole minutes passing while it travelled the distance. Eventually, it got so close he couldn’t look, even through the UV protected viewport, and he turned to watch the face of Ren’s ghost, knowing it was the last time he’d see the face he had come to hold so dear. 

 

He watched as Ren’s face changed from something that could be described as slightly anxious, to mostly blank, to calm, to clearly peaceful. Then he turned.

 

“Come, it’s done.”

 

“Done?”

 

“Yes, there’s no use staring off after a pile of ash, now is there?”

 

“But I- you’re still here? I thought you were still connected to it?”

 

“To you Hux. I’m here because of you.”

 

Ren was looking him dead in the eyes now.

 

“I didn’t need you to tell me you loved me every day because I could feel it. Something so powerful it held me back from death doesn’t need to be spoken aloud to be known. I came back because  _ you _ are my unfinished business. Protecting you, loving you, making sure you become what you were always meant to be. All my life I was drifting because I thought I had a destiny to fulfill, that I was headed towards greatness, but every time I tried to grasp it everything fell to pieces in my hands. That’s because  _ you  _ are my destiny, Hux. You are destined for greatness, to rule. I’m still here because I still have a part to play.”

 

Hux said nothing. He slipped his hand carefully into his pocket and pulled out the Ren’s ring, sliding it onto his fourth finger in one fluid motion. There would never be a ceremony, or a public exchange of vows. They’d lost their chance for all that, but this, somehow, would have to do.

 

“Now let’s go see about making you Emperor.”

**Author's Note:**

> A HUGE thanks to the ever-wonderful [persephassax](http://persephassax.tumblr.com/) for all her encouragement and for literally every comma in this fic (oh yeah and the fucking title).


End file.
